Chapter 3
Ryder Kim, FBI analyst and overall logistician for the Mobile Response Team, walked into the conference room at five minutes
to nine Monday morning for their post-operation team meeting.
Michael Harris and Sloane Wagner were chatting about what they’d each done on their first weekend off in weeks—Michael had
worked on his house, Sloane had gone to a concert with friends from the Academy. Jim Esteban walked in behind Ryder.
“My sister and I went to a doubleheader Saturday,” Jim said. “Needed yesterday to recuperate.” When Jim was in DC, he lived
with his sister, a widow. She was a veterinarian and owned a house only ten minutes from Quantico. He spent most of his free
time in Dallas, where he had a basement apartment in his longtime home that he had gifted to his daughter and her growing
family.
“What about you, Ryder?” Sloane asked. “Do not tell me you worked all weekend.”
He hesitated.
“Damn, Ryder, I would have taken you to the game with me,” Jim said. “You need to get out, have some fun.”
“I didn’t work,” he said. A slight fib. He spent Saturday pulling together everyone’s reports into one document, approving
expenses, then he coordinated with the Flagler County Sheriff’s Department and the district attorney on the paperwork and
statements for Garrett Reid’s arraignment later this afternoon. “Yesterday I went to a barbecue at a friend’s house.”
Why did everyone look surprised that he had a social life? True, he didn’t have an extensive social life. Ryder didn’t see the point of small talk and fake interest. He also didn’t like talking about his personal life
with his colleagues. He had few friends, but those he had were rock solid. The party yesterday, however, was bittersweet—the
three-year anniversary of the death of a fellow soldier, a needless death and the primary reason Ryder decided to part from
the Army and apply to Quantico.
He slid folders down the table, one for each person. “Catherine is on her way, and Matt is meeting with AD Greer at headquarters,”
Ryder said. “Zack is in Los Angeles giving his deposition in the political corruption case.”
Last October, the team uncovered a major conspiracy involving all levels of local and state government, taking down a high-ranking
FBI agent as well as an elected official. As the one who had cracked the financial network of money laundering and bribes,
Zack had to be available to both the defense and prosecution.
“Kara?” Michael asked.
Kara was never late, so it was unusual that she wasn’t here. However, since she moved out of the FBI Academy dorms last month
into a house she’d purchased, she hadn’t been coming in as early because her commute was longer than a five-minute walk across
campus.
“She’ll probably come in complaining about the traffic,” Jim said. “Or she and Matt decided to take a longer vacation. God
knows they both need it.”
“Their flight landed at Dulles at one in the morning,” Ryder said.
“More than forty-eight hours free time probably would have killed them both,” Michael teased.
Ryder was relieved that Matt had come clean about his relationship with Kara Quinn, the LAPD detective on permanent loan to
the Mobile Response Team. Ryder had figured it out from the beginning; it took the rest of the team a couple months. He greatly
respected his boss, and Kara was an important part of the team—her way of looking at their cases was different than everyone
else. It had been Ryder’s idea that they take some time off after they wrapped up their undercover investigation on Friday,
and Matt jumped at the idea.
Dr. Catherine Jones, the team psychiatrist, walked briskly into the room and sat in her usual spot, to the right of the head
of the table where Matt usually sat. “I’m sorry I’m late,” she said. “I was on the phone with the Flagler County district
attorney to flesh out a few details since Matt is meeting with Tony. Reid will be arraigned this afternoon. There are a couple
hiccups, however.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Jim said.
“As you know, the search warrants didn’t yield any useful evidence. I’ve gone over the reports and I believe he used his apartment
only for official documentation. His secondary location could be closer than I suspected.” She glanced at her watch. “Where’s
Kara?”
“Most likely stuck in traffic,” Ryder said. He texted her and asked her ETA.
Catherine said, “She needs to talk to Detective Fuentes as soon as possible—her report was detailed, but there are questions
regarding the moments leading up to his arrest and comments he made. If necessary, she’ll need to testify on video during
the hearing in order to put the comments in context.”
Catherine glanced at her watch a second time, frowned, then continued, “He asked for a lawyer, who evidently couldn’t come until today.”
“It shouldn’t matter,” Michael said. “We caught the guy red-handed.”
“We have him on attempted kidnapping,” Catherine said, “but the sheriff’s department hasn’t found any evidence tying him to
the six homicides. Anson is charging him with assault, but that is thin—we can’t prove he drugged the food—and while Reid’s
excuse for entering Matt’s cottage is weak, it’s still within the realm of plausibility. We need concrete evidence.”
“They said they could handle the investigation,” Michael said. “They didn’t ask us to stay and assist.”
Catherine put up her hand and said, “I’m aware, and I’ll admit I was fairly confident that there would be connective evidence
once the search was complete. We may be called back down to help, or provide support from here. Financials from the secondary
warrant are coming in today, and our lab is still processing evidence.” She glanced at Jim.
Jim nodded. “I’ll be following up with the head of trace evidence later this morning.”
Catherine made a note, then said, “I sent Matt a message right before his meeting with Tony that Michael and Kara may need
to go back to Flagler County for a few days.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t have left,” Michael said.
“Do we know anything about Reid’s lawyer?” Sloane asked. “I would think he’d want to have a sit-down over the weekend to find
out exactly what the charges are, talk to his client.”
“When I spoke with the DA this morning, the lawyer had yet to arrive,” Catherine said. “Florida asked for our help with Reid’s
background. Ryder has been working on his employment history, but there are holes, correct?”
Ryder nodded to the folders he’d already distributed.
“Everything I have, you now have. Garrett Reid, thirty, from Pasadena, California. His parents claim they haven’t spoken to him in the last six to seven years.
The dad is a retired civil engineer with the county, the mom is a retired schoolteacher, and they’ve lived at their Pasadena home for more than forty years.
We’re tracking down his two older brothers now. ”
“The parents didn’t help?” Sloane asked.
“Two LA FBI agents spoke to them in person on Saturday, but obtained minimal information,” Catherine said. “They hadn’t seen
him, didn’t care what he was doing. The agents came away with the impression that there was a family disagreement. Phone records
support that they haven’t spoken with him in years. Maybe his brothers will be more forthcoming. The local FBI office is checking
with friends and other family. I plan to reach out to the parents as well, hopefully figure out why Garrett is estranged from
his family and if that has any bearing on these murders. Depending on what we learn, I may ask Kara to speak with one or both
of the siblings. She has an uncanny way of getting people to talk.”
A rare compliment. Ryder was stunned. Maybe Catherine really had turned over a new leaf regarding Kara.
Catherine said, “None of the staff at the resort had anything but good things to say about Reid. He’s competent, helpful,
friendly. He rarely socialized with anyone outside of work. No one seems to know anything about his private life. He’s been
on staff for nearly nine months—two months before the first couple went missing. I have LA FBI digging deeper into the first
two victims. We knew that Emily Henderson was raised in Santa Barbara, and while that’s a distance from Pasadena, perhaps
they knew each other in some way, crossed paths.”
“And,” Jim said, “we can’t discount that he may have had earlier victims. Even if we can’t find unsolved crimes that fit his
profile, we may have missing couples or young blonde women who were his handiwork.”
“True,” Catherine said, “but I keep going back to why here? Why now? Why these couples? He was fishing in his own pool. Easier access? Convenience? Being an employee makes his crimes riskier. Did he relish that risk? Did he know Emily Henderson or did she remind him of someone?”
“We have far too many questions,” Michael said, “and too few answers. Damn. I shouldn’t have jumped when he reached into his
pocket. He never used a gun before, but I thought he might have one as protection.”
Ryder had been privy to the conversation where Matt told Michael he made the right call, but Michael said he shouldn’t have
made the mistake. If he’d waited five seconds, he would have seen it was a flashlight and not a gun. If he’d waited, they
could have captured him in the act of tying up Matt and Kara, and that would have been harder for Reid to explain away.
“It was a tense and difficult situation,” Catherine said. “Now that we have a suspect, even if he’s cut loose this afternoon,
there is a full, ongoing investigation. We’ll find his mistakes. If Emily Henderson is connected to him in any way, we’ll
find the evidence. And I already asked LA FBI to look for any woman who fits the profile who was killed or went missing in
Los Angeles County the year before Reid left. If he killed someone, that may have given him a reason to leave.”
“Would he be able to wait five to seven years before killing again?” Sloane asked.